Incremental
by ShaViva
Summary: When Jack O'Neill was recalled from retirement he couldn't have guessed just where his new assignment would take him nor what would be asked of him and his team. Episode based collection of tags/missing scenes.  Hints of Jack/Sam pre-ship.
1. First Impressions

**Incremental**

Author: ShaViva

Rating: T

Season: Season 1 onwards

Summary: When Jack O'Neill was recalled from retirement he couldn't have guessed just where his new assignment would take him nor what would be asked of he and his team. Episode based collection of tags and challenge responses.

Classifications: General

Pairings: Probably hints (sometimes big ones!) of Sam/Jack

Acknowledgements: Gateworld transcripts and episode summaries - VERY helpful! This is unbeta'd - all mistakes are mine alone.

Disclaimer: I am unfortunately not associated in any way with the creators, owners, or producers of Stargate or any of its media franchises. All publicly recognizable characters, settings, equipment, etc are the property of whoever owns them. Any original characters, plot, settings, and anything else I made up are the property of me, the author. No copyright infringement is intended.

Copyright (c) 2011 ShaViva

**Authors Note:**

The Team Flyboy thread on Gateworld has been doing a rewatch of both SG-1 and SGA (we're watching an episode every fortnight) - this story will be a collection of tags and challenge responses as we slowly work our way through the seasons. I'll try to tie each chapter together so it's a coherent story instead of a collection of one-shots. I hope you'll enjoy reading along with me as I revisit the things that made Stargate SG-1 so great.

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><p><em>"A word is a bud attempting to become a twig. How can one not dream while writing? It is the pen which dreams. The blank page gives the right to dream."<em>

_Gaston Bachelard_

**Chapter 1: First Impressions**

_(Spoilers for: S01E01 - Children of the Gods)_

"Just because my reproductive organs are on the inside instead of the _outside_ …?," Samantha Carter repeated under her breath incredulously. "Are we going to have to _arm wrestle_?" her voice rose a little as she got to the end of that one. "They were the best comebacks you could come up with?"

Meeting her own eyes in the locker room mirror she saw the faint flush of red still colouring her complexion, not to mention the slightly wild look in her eyes. She had to pull herself together, get her game face well and truly in place _before_ the next time she came into contact with h- _them_. With a sigh she shook her head, dropping down to the bench that paralleled the mirrors dejectedly. It wasn't like her to lie to herself and she wasn't going to start now, no matter how much meeting Colonel Jonathon 'Jack' O'Neill had thrown her.

He wasn't what she'd expected … the reality and what she'd imagined after reading and rereading his report on the Abydos mission were so far apart that she couldn't quite take it in. She thought he'd be older – more like General Hammond only rougher around the edges. She thought he'd be shorter too – that with her 5ft10 inches she'd be on a level with him as she was with most of the men she served with at the Pentagon. And for some reason she hadn't expected him to be so attractive either. The way his dark brown eyes had connected with hers – his smirk and that almost flirting look that had crossed his face when he'd told her he _liked_ women – how good he looked in dress blues – she shouldn't have noticed any of that but she had. Why? Because contrary to everything she held dear, contrary to the way she'd conducted herself throughout her entire career, and despite her prior view that any officer who let themselves have feelings for a fellow officer in the chain of command was weak and undisciplined, she was attracted to Jack O'Neill.

_Really_ attracted to him … enough that she could feel her face heating up again just thinking about her physical reaction to her temporary commanding officer.

What was she going to do about this? She'd worked damned hard for too many years to let a man get in the way just before the finish line. She'd _dreamed_ of going through the Stargate for almost three years – had kicked herself when a little known archaeologist came in and within days solved the puzzle she'd spent two years on. Although in fairness she hadn't personally spent that time working on the gate symbols. Her job had been to create the dialling protocols and all the programming that went into making the gate work – and she'd succeeded too. Doctor Jackson's efforts would have been for nothing without Sam's work.

"_You deserve to be on this mission_," she told herself firmly. "_You've earned it – and you'll do fine_." Glancing at her watch she jumped up again, wrenching open her locker and hurriedly taking out her desert BDUs. She had less than five minutes to get changed out of her own dress uniform and make it to the gateroom. No way was she turning up late and risking comments about women needing longer to get ready.

Colonel O'Neill wasn't a chauvinist - she had to be fair about that. No, he was something worse – _anti_ scientist. Sam knew how to deal with the guys who still thought a woman's place was anywhere other than in the military. She wasn't sure she knew how to deal with someone disliking her brains. She couldn't help who she was though and there was no way she was changing her behaviour to accommodate Colonel O'Neilll's prejudices. In fact, she suspected if she laid on the science talk thick enough, the Colonel would be the one to walk away and leave her to it.

Hurriedly buttoning her shirt and tucking it in, Sam grabbed her boots and moved back to the bench to put them on. Now that the idea of confusing him with science speak had occurred to her she ran the pros and cons through her mind.

He'd label her a geek and possibly stop listening to her before he'd even started.

He'd be forced to trust her because he wouldn't understand what she said; that or he'd order her to dumb it down – she wasn't sure which column to put that one in.

It was a tool she could use every time she felt in danger of being distracted by her attraction to him.

That last one was the biggest selling point – all she needed was enough time to get used to him, familiarity surely putting paid to her hopefully brief moments of inexplicable lust. By the end of this first mission she'd see through the attractive surface to the man underneath – and when she did whatever emotion was fuelling the fluttering feeling in her stomach would dissipate, like the heat trail from an F-16.

Pulling the laces tight, Sam rushed from the room to the armoury, grabbing a kit, weapon and helmet before continuing on. She smiled when she got there with a full minute to spare – take that men who think a woman can't get dressed on time!

Hammond was talking to the Colonel … her stomach gave that annoying flutter when she caught sight of O'Neill in BDUs – how could it be the man looked even more attractive than he had that morning? Turning her face away she focussed on the stargate. She'd seen it of course, many times, but not close up. The bright blue puddle shimmering in the centre called to her – she felt no fear at the prospect of being dematerialised. It was … beautiful.

"Captain?"

Sam turned to see the source of her immediate problems standing beside her, an amused expression evident. Great, she'd already started again on the wrong foot!

"Don't worry, Colonel. I won't let you down," she said quickly.

"Good. I was gonna say "Ladies first."" O'Neill quipped.

He strode up the ramp and Sam followed him. She meant to be less earnest, less ingratiating but instead found herself blurting out something that had her cringing mentally the moment it was said. "You know, you really will like me when you get to know me."

"Oh, I adore you already, Captain," the Colonel drawled.

Sam struggled not to let her mortification show. Insisting that he'd like her and having him reply so sarcastically was worse than the reproductive organs comment. Maybe she should just stop talking in his presence … that might work.

She had every intention of doing just that too, until she found herself right in front of an open wormhole for the first time and the sheer wonder of that got the better of her.

"My God ... look at this. The energy the Gate must release to create a stable wormhole is - is astronomical, to use exactly the right word," she reached out to touch it. "You can actually see the fluctuations in the event horizon."

The push was abrupt and unexpected, followed by a flash of cold motion and disorientation. The next moment she was stumbling onto another world. Her legs felt weak and her stomach even more so – she had to sit down before she disgraced herself by falling down.

When Colonel O'Neill strolled through the gate unaffected, stopping only to make an irreverent quip about the big lunch she shouldn't have consumed, Sam decided she wasn't attracted to him after all. In fact she was pretty sure she was well on the way to hating him. Smug … that was the word for her new CO.

Of course that irrational moment passed and while she still thought Jack O'Neill was too quick with the smart ass remark she couldn't fail to see the impression he'd made on the people of Abydos.

Later, after she'd displayed way too much of her enthusiastic geek persona, after they'd reunited with Doctor Jackson and the people of Abydos involved in the first stargate mission, the surprise that was Jack O'Neill continued to strike her.

The way he was with Skaara and the other 'kids', and the way they were in return spoke volumes. His irreverent, devil may care attitude couldn't be all there was – the Colonel had depths, hidden for sure but somehow that only made her want to dig deeper to find the real him underneath. A small kernel of suspicion over his 'scientific' knowledge emerged too – when she and Daniel had talked about Doppler shift and stellar drift his succinct summary had been spot on. _The gate could go other places._

The situation on Chulak was tense but Sam never felt the situation was hopeless. They'd been imprisoned in a dungeon for god's sake – assessed by the Goa'uld like cattle stock – and yet somehow Colonel O'Neill had her believing it was only a matter of time before they'd be free. And he'd been right.

Now, the mission over, back in the locker room, Sam took a moment to think. She still couldn't believe it … one line 'I can save these people' and a plea for help, and he'd convinced Teal'c to betray his own race in favour of saving SG-1 and everyone held captive in that dungeon. The way O'Neill blasted that hole in the wall, the way he'd pushed everyone to escape … her heart raced even now just thinking about how inspiring and just plain captivating that had been. But the thing that truly amazed Sam was the fact that the Colonel brought the displaced Jaffa warrior home with them. He'd seen that opportunity, seen what Teal'c could be to them in an instance and then he'd acted. Any other commanding officer would have hesitated, planned on seeking approval back at the SGC before acting, but not Colonel O'Neill.

They'd lost Sha're and Skaara – Sam saw it in the Colonel's posture how much that had hurt but he'd kept going. They'd fought the Jaffa left behind and they'd won – and in the process saved more than a hundred people, all of whom would have died without Colonel O'Neill. Hell, she'd be dead were it not for him!

He'd backed up his actions too - when Colonel O'Neill stepped up and announced that Teal'c, _an alien_, would be part of their team, that was the moment when Sam realised how naïve she'd been. The fact that she'd reduced her first impressions down to basic physical attraction now felt disrespectful and even childish. She'd hoped to discover something about the man that would diminish her instinctive admiration and the crude label she'd placed on it. Instead she'd found a leader who inspired her to follow, a man who's integrity and determination had driven a Jaffa warrior to be the first to denounce the Goa'uld as false Gods, and a strategist who'd won them their first off world ally. It was easy to brush aside the rest – to focus on her place on the new team and on what she could learn from an officer with Jack O'Neill's experience.

Maybe she was still too attracted to him but it wouldn't be a problem anymore – because he deserved a whole lot more from her than that, and by god she was going to make sure she delivered.


	2. The Grief Within

**Authors Note:**

On re-watching 'The Enemy Within' it struck me that there were inconsistencies in Jack's past with regard to Kawalsky. In Children of the Gods Kawalsky didn't even know Jack had a son but in a later episode, The Gamekeeper, Kawalsky was a part of Jack's team back in the early 80's. It was pretty clear they'd known each other a long time and been close friends, just by how Jack sat at Kawalsky's bedside and even held his hand. So this is just a short episode tag to address that.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2: The Grief Within<strong>

_(Spoilers for: S01E02 - _The Enemy Within; S02E04 - The Gamekeeper_)_

"_My friend died on the table._"

The words echoed bleakly in Jack's head as he strode from the now empty Gateroom.

The medics had taken the body away ... Jack refused to think of it as Major Charles Kawalsky. It hadn't been Kawalsky who'd tried to kill Teal'c, assaulted Carter, and put the base on auto destruct before trying to escape through the Stargate. And when Jack had ordered the shutdown of the wormhole it wasn't his friend who'd perished - although that was the part he was struggling to believe.

_No_. Everything Kawalsky did from the moment he'd woken up after surgery had been the snake's doing. That was another thing Jack was struggling to accept – that a Goa'uld had managed to take Kawalsky as a host without anyone being the wiser, not until Charlie tried to get through the gate without authorisation. Maybe if Jack had noticed something was off sooner they could have gotten that snake out before it was too late.

"_If you don't make it ... can I have your stereo?_"

More words to regret. Jack kept his face carefully blank as he was checked through security and signed out of the mountain. Once in his truck he drove with single minded purpose until he was pulling into his driveway. He sat for a moment, eyes on the home he'd made for himself after Sara finally gave up on him.

It was hard to believe Charlie Kawalsky was gone. Jack had counted him a friend for a lot of years – he'd joked about the other man not making it because deep down it hadn't occurred to him that Kawalsky wouldn't get out of this one the way they'd gotten out of worse scrapes in the past.

With a sigh, Jack got out of the truck and made his way inside, throwing his keys on the table just inside the living area. He didn't intentionally look to the mantel – his eyes were drawn there like a magnet to iron, skipping over the framed medals and certificates and landing on a small photograph. A very much younger version of himself smiled out at him. Captain Jack O'Neill with his team – Kawalsky, Thomas, and their leader, Colonel John Michaels, Jack remembered when the photo was taken – 1982, during the last team barbeque they'd shared before heading out for a simple black ops mission to East Germany. Operation East Fly … forever labelled in Jack's head as the most blown mission of his entire career. Their intel had been flawed and John had paid the ultimate price, leaving Jack to tell the man's wife that her husband wouldn't be coming home.

Kawalsky had insisted on going with him that day – for morale support he'd said in that easy way of his that made it almost impossible to say no. Barbara Michaels went pale as soon as she opened the door and saw them standing there. And then she'd cried, deep moans of despair as though her soul were shattering. There'd been nothing Jack or Kawalsky could do; as they'd left the grieving woman with her sister Jack remembered wondering whether Sara would be so broken if it were him the snipers had picked off instead of John.

And years later, when he's been forced to watch Sara flattened by an even greater grief, when he'd felt damned with the responsibility for what happened to their son, he'd wished again that it _had_ been him. Because then his son would still be alive.

"_Don't go there_," he told himself, searching around for a distraction. When his eyes landed on the kitchen area he gave a half mocking smirk. Beer wouldn't cure his ails but it would dull the edges sufficiently that he could forget them for a time.

He'd just slouched down on the sofa when the doorbell rang. Tempted not to answer, Jack took a long swallow from the bottle he held loosely in one hand, waiting to see whether whoever it was would go away.

The doorbell rang again, this time accompanied by his uninvited guest calling out.

"Hel-lo?"

"It's open," Jack called back, watching as the door opened and Daniel Jackson peered inside.

"Jack," Daniel said it like he was surprised to find his friend there, even though he'd come to Jack's house and Jack's truck was parked in the driveway.

"Daniel," Jack returned casually. The archaeologist had stayed with him for a couple of weeks while he'd found his feet after spending a year living on Abydos. The company hadn't been a hardship but both men were glad to return to a more independent, singular existence.

"Are you … okay?" Daniel asked, moving inside hesitantly and closing the door behind him.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Jack returned blandly.

Daniel sat in the chair across Jack, his eyes noting that Jack was drinking alone, before he refocussed on Jack's expression. "Oh I don't know," he frowned, narrowing his eyes as he considered how to respond. "I just thought, with what happened to Major Kawalsky …," he trailed off with a shrug.

"Occupational hazard," Jack took another long drink, the bottle hiding his expression.

"Oh come on Jack," Daniel scoffed. "You won't convince me you're unaffected. Major Kawalsky wasn't just another team member." He hesitated again. "I mean … _Charlie_ Kawalsky. Charlie O'Neill. Is that just a coincidence?"

Jack shot Daniel an impatient glare, shaking his head. Knowing Daniel as he was coming to, the other man wouldn't give up until he'd dragged the full story out. In this case the path of least resistance was just to give him what he wanted, some of it anyway.

"We didn't name Charlie for anyone," he began, "but I'd be lying if I said I didn't consider Kawalsky when we chose it." He sighed. "He was a good man."

"Yes, he was," Daniel agreed. "You served together, before Abydos?"

"We were on the same team for a lot of years – saved each other's hides too many times to count," Jack tipped up his bottle, finishing the last few drops before standing. Holding up the bottle he looked at Daniel expectantly. "You staying?"

"You're trusting me to hold my liquor this time?" Daniel joked.

"Gotta man up sometime," Jack quipped back, already on his way to the fridge, the two men silent until Jack was back on the sofa.

"So … Kawalsky," Daniel opened the door for Jack to continue.

"So," Jack replied. Daniel didn't say anything but the criticism was implied. "What do you want me to say?" Jack demanded irritably. "Most of what we were doing back then is still classified."

"Ah, _don't_ say it," Daniel held up a hand.

"I'm not going to tell you anything Daniel," Jack returned, amused in spite of the situation. "That way I won't have to kill you … not today anyway."

"Har har," Daniel smiled quickly before his expression turned serious again. "I don't remember you and Kawalsky seeming particularly close on that first mission."

"We lost touch, a few years before Charlie was born," Jack admitted. "Total screw up of a mission, bad intel … our unit commander didn't make it out. I ended up with a promotion and Kawalsky was reassigned." He didn't add that it had been easier for them both to deal with their part in that failed mission once they were no longer in each other's faces every day.

"So you didn't speak again until the Abydos mission?" Daniel asked, surprised. "Did he even know you had a son, that you called him Charlie?"

Jack shook his head.

"You _never_ told him, not even when the Stargate program started up again?"

Daniel's tone was disapproving and Jack had to stop himself from squirming. "Charlie was already gone – what was the point?" he demanded.

"_Jack_," Daniel pushed his glassed up his nose, a clear sign that he was on the road to being agitated. "You were _friends_ – that's the kind of thing you tell your friends!"

"Maybe … and maybe I'd have gotten around to it eventually," Jack admitted. "Kawalsky knew I had a son ... that I lost him …"

"and you weren't ready to tell him anything else," Daniel concluded. He looked at Jack, his expression careful. "You always seem so … together – I forget sometimes that it hasn't been that long."

"It'll _never_ be long enough for me to want to talk about it," Jack's tone was a clear message that the subject was done and for once Daniel didn't push it.

"It wasn't your fault," he said instead, with quiet firmness.

"It was my order to shut down the gate Daniel," Jack pointed out grimly. "My call … _my_ responsibility. Unless you're going to tell me it was already too late to undo what that snake did to him?"

"Something of the host survives," Daniel had to believe that – it was the only thing that gave him hope that one day Sha're could be returned to him.

"Exactly," Jack raised his bottle in a half salute. "So something of Kawalsky was around to see his old buddy pull the metaphorical trigger."

"He understood," Daniel insisted. "And you know he didn't want to be what that Goa'uld made him. We don't know how yet, but in time we'll understand what we need to do to reverse the blending process."

"Not in time to save Kawalsky," Jack pointed out the obvious.

"No," Daniel agreed sadly.

They fell silent for a time, until the point when it was starting to get awkward, before Daniel spoke again. "So, I hear Teal'c is off the hook with Colonel Kennedy," he changed the subject, to Jack's utter relief.

"Off the hook, and cleared for duty," Jack confirmed. "General Hammond's talking to him tomorrow about that place on our team."

"That's great," Daniel didn't have to say it – both were fully aware that his only reason for wanting to be on SG-1 was to get to as many worlds as possible in the hopes of finding the one Sha're was on. "So we're heading out soon?"

"Tomorrow," Jack smirked. "P357 whatever."

"And Kawalsky's memorial?"

"Day after tomorrow." Jack sighed. "He was a good man," he said again, bringing their conversation full circle.

"Yeah, he was," Daniel agreed, knowing that was as much as Jack would ever say about his feelings over Kawalsky's demise. The man might be irreverent and laid back on the surface but that wasn't the sum total of the man within. Daniel understood that – he empathised and in his own way even modelled his own behaviour on the O'Neill approach. It was one of those things most people would be surprised to learn they had in common.

"You found an apartment yet?" it was Jack's turn to change the subject.

"I think so," Daniel smiled, happy to let the conversation go where it would. He wasn't there for the words, but for the company, and because Jack being alone on such a night just wasn't something a friend allowed.

And he knew – Jack would do the same for him.


	3. P3X 595

**Authors Note: **

This one was inspired by that one line in Emancipation, at the campfire, when Jack references a mission and Carter reminds him they weren't talking about that. What mission? What did she drink? What happened next? Hence this latest tag!

**Chapter 3: P3X-595**

_(Spoilers for: S01E03 - Emancipation)_

"So … you _liked_ Captain Carter in that dress?" Daniel asked too casually, putting too much emphasis on the 'like'. Both men were seated at a table in the Mess hall, post mission checks and debriefs done. Teal'c had retired to his room to 'clear his mind' as he put it. As far as Jack knew Captain Carter was still with the docs, hopefully talking about the 'female' aspects of the mission and dealing with her ordeal - stuff he really didn't need to hear about personally. Not that he didn't empathise with his junior officer team mate – being relegated to the role of saleable object would sting anyone, and although Carter didn't strike him as the feminist type she'd certainly flown the female flag with the Shavadai.

"I'm a _man_ Daniel," he dismissed Jackson's prior comment with sarcastic amusement. "It's my job to admire a woman dressed like that."

"But you called her Samantha," Daniel persisted.

"Yes, because I'm also her team leader, and in _that_ role it's my job to test her mettle, make sure she can handle _anything_ thrown at her," Jack prevaricated. Teasing his subordinates wasn't part of his job, just the opposite in fact. He wouldn't admit it to Daniel, but seeing Carter in that dress had tripped something in his head – seeing her as a woman was so not what he needed to be doing, then or _ever_. It wasn't the first time that particular switch had been tripped either – but that was another incident he didn't need to be thinking about right then.

"Oh," Daniel looked disappointed for a moment. "So you don't 'like' her?" he inverted the word with air quotes, something he'd picked up from Jack himself.

"You do know it's against the regs for me to 'like' Carter, right?" Jack air quoted back sarcastically.

"Um, why?"

"We're not getting into another debate about military rules Daniel," Jack dismissed pointed, "especially not here."

"Okay, I'll just ask you again later then," Daniel pushed his glasses back up his nose, looking very pleased with himself and the prospect of a debate later. Since it wasn't the first time they'd talked the merits of military thinking, Jack already knew how much Daniel enjoyed trying to push his buttons.

"No you won't," he shot back, to no avail. When Daniel set his mind to something it was almost like he developed selective hearing loss in that he stopped listening to protests from anyone not on-side with him. "Fine, whatever," Jack muttered, his attention captured as Captain Carter appeared in the door way. She looked his way immediately, like she'd already known where they were sitting, and gave him an uncomfortable looking smile.

"That could be a problem," Jack murmured, watching as Sam selected a couple of items and then hesitated before turning. It looked like she considered sitting somewhere else before giving in and making her way to their table.

"What could be a problem?" Daniel queried, oblivious to the non-verbal conversation going on around him.

"Nothing Daniel, drink your coffee," Jack ordered, putting on his 'company' smile as Sam sat down across from him.

"Captain," he greeted her casually.

"Sir," she returned, shooting him a quick look before focussing on fixing her own drink.

He watched as she carefully added sugar and then stirred and stirred … and stirred.

"Okay, that's it," he declared abruptly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing Sir," Carter insisted promptly.

"Don't give me that Captain," Jack retorted. "You're sitting on eggshells over there and you haven't looked at either of us once. What gives?"

"I was just talking with Doctor Frasier," Carter began, mentioning one of the military ranked doctors serving at the SGC. "It really is nothing Sir – just some details of the mission that are a little … troubling."

"You practically took on a war of the sexes all by yourself Carter," Jack pointed out. "That's gotta bother anyone. You _should_ talk to someone about what happened."

"Don't forget that fight with Turghan," Daniel added helpfully. "I wouldn't be able to hobble around for a week if it had been me."

"If it had been you Daniel we wouldn't have made it out of there without creating an intergalactic incident," Jack's lips quirked in a faint smirk as he exchanged an amused glance with Sam.

"Hey! I work out," Daniel protested, "and I train."

It was true – the archaeologist had dedicated himself to learning everything he needed to justify his spot on SG-1. It was a slow process though and he still had a long way to go before he'd start looking more like a soldier instead of the studious somewhat absentminded professor he was.

"He _trains_," Jack repeated to Sam, deliberately sceptical.

Carter laughed before offering Daniel a sympathetic smile. "We've been at this for years," she reminded her team mate kindly.

"So … we're good?" Jack waved a hand vaguely to indicate SG-1 and her place in it.

"Of course Sir," Carter agreed too quickly, looking away. When she spied Janet Frasier at the door, her face reddened and she shot Jack another of those uncomfortable half smiles before returning her attention to the table top.

"No need to be embarrassed Captain," Jack smirked, amused. "I'm sure before we're done _all_ of us will have been captured and sold in some way, shape, or form."

"And then bought back," Daniel added.

"Daniel," Jack warned with a subtle shake of his head that his friend clearly didn't catch.

"What?" he asked innocently. "I was just commenting that we had to buy Sam back. Well, _you_ bought her back actually. That was a surprisingly smart strategy on your part by the way."

"I have my moments," Jack offered Sam an apologetic smile before he continued. "And let me be quite clear – I didn't _buy_ Carter – I just expedited her rescue and I'd do the same for any one of you." He looked at Carter, hesitated and then did the vague hand gesture thing again. "Is that what has you blushing – that technically I had to buy your freedom?"

"No!" Carter shot back.

"What then?" Jack persisted.

"It's just …," she glanced around and then leaned in closer, lowering her voice. "You really liked that dress Sir?"

Jack slouched back in his chair, the unexpectedness of her complaint having him laughing in that genuine way he did so rarely. "Is that a problem for you Captain?" he queried once he'd stopped.

"We're men," Daniel helpfully repeated. "It's our job to admire you dressed like that."

"Daniel … _not_ helping!" Jack ground out with a glare. "Look," he turned back to Sam casually. "What we do here is sometimes going to throw the unexpected at us – we have to adapt, go with the flow, take one day at a time, … should I go on?"

"No Sir," Carter smiled. "I had to tell Janet the whole story – she commented that you admiring that dress was very historical romance of you Sir."

"Historical romance?" Jack grimaced, not liking the sound of that.

"Yes," Carter nodded earnestly. "You know – damsels in distress, low cut gowns, swords and villains, macho displays of rippling muscles, all of that. I'm just surprised you'd like that kind of thing Sir." Her eyes shone with amusement and Jack wondered for the first time if she'd been playing him from the moment she'd walked through the Mess doors.

"Let's get one thing straight Captain," he shot back firmly. "I don't _like_ 'that kind of thing'. It was a unique situation, that's all. Like you and that stuff you drank on P3X-595."

"I thought we weren't going to talk about that Sir," Carter muttered, not looking so amused now.

"I'm just using it as another example of the challenges going through the gate will throw at us Carter," Jack said innocently. That wasn't what he'd been doing at all – having her accusing him of liking the damsel in distress thing made him want to squirm in his seat. If he was going to feel that way about an off world mission then damn it, so could she.

And she was – the look she shot him full of reproach as she tried to turn her mind to something else by questioning Daniel about his latest research project. That didn't stop Jack's own memories taking off back to P3X-595. That one had been a dream mission – nice weather, beautiful surrounds, and most importantly locals who welcomed them and wanted to share whatever they had. Unfortunately it turned out that what they had to share had no military significance … no big honking space guns, no cures for cancer, just dinner by the fire and a very interesting drink that only Carter and Daniel had been game to try.

A faint smile ghosted Jack's lips as he recalled coming back from switching watch duty with Teal'c to find Daniel passed out on the ground (the man _still_ couldn't hold his liquor) and Sam most of the way to removing every scrap of clothing she'd had on. The locals hadn't helped, many of them either also passed out or already off in the trees setting the wrong example for his team mate.

He'd arrived just before it got _really_ interesting – not that Carter had appreciated his restraint, both of her and of his urge to express any one of several purely male observations he could have made on seeing her striped to her underwear, a dreamy smile gracing her face. She'd giggled - something he wouldn't have thought his tough Captain would be capable of, and insisted that she had to be free of societal trappings. Then she'd approached, a purposeful and frankly scary expression directed at him, or more accurately at what he was wearing. He'd laughed even as he'd ducked away, gathering up her BDU shirt and pants and insisting she could express her social freedom when she wasn't high on alien happy juice.

That had been the funny part – and it had helped him ignore his reaction to seeing her undressed. He could ogle any number of women at the local swimming centred dressed in similar or in some cases less and not have it mean anything, but that didn't make it any easier to forget just how hot Samantha Carter was. Yes, their Captain really was something to look at – although he'd sworn later that he'd kept his eyes closed the entire time he'd been wrestling to get her back into her uniform. They'd managed to get out of that one with dignity still intact, and he'd sworn to himself he wouldn't look at Carter as a desirable woman again.

And then he'd walked into that tent and seen her in that dress …

"Sir?"

Jack looked up to find both Daniel and Sam watching him curiously. "Sorry?"

"Daniel was just talking about completing his interviews with the Chulak refugees Sir," Carter explained. "We think we're close to identifying the gate address Apophis took Sha're to."

"Really?" Jack sat forward abruptly.

"Well, not the exact address, but a very small set of possibilities," Sam expanded, glancing at Daniel for confirmation.

"There are only a handful of potential addresses from the Abydos cartouche that contain the symbols most of the refugees identified," Daniel clarified. "Don't you read your memo? General Hammond is briefing us next week once he's made a decision on our findings."

"Of course I read my memos Daniel," Jack said piously, "eventually," he added under his breath.

"Right," Daniel smiled, pushing up his glasses and giving Jack a look of disapproval that was becoming all too familiar.

"Cake," Jack announced abruptly, getting to his feet. "Anyone else?"

"You go Sir," Carter smiled. "I have to get back to work."

"Priorities Captain," Jack smirked, waiting until she'd gotten to her feet and then walking towards the counter and exit with her.

He'd turned his attention to the dessert selections when she spoke again. "Sir?"

"Mmm?" he glanced back at her distractedly. "Changed your mind about the cake?"

"No Sir," she said, amusement there in her expression again. "I just wanted to thank you for what you did back there – with the Shavadai."

"I assume we're not talking about the dress anymore," Jack quipped with an uncertain frown.

"No Sir," Carter agreed. "I meant allowing a woman stand up against a man. You could have taken over but you didn't – and I appreciate that very much Sir."

"You're not a woman Carter," Jack dismissed simply. "You're a member of my team … and what I did was just part of the service."

"Yes Sir," Carter grinned , looking like she couldn't have been happier with anything else he could have said.

"Right, so …," he looked at the dessert he no longer really wanted and then waved towards the door. "Go and do your thing, and I'll do mine."

Straightening, she gave him a salute – a show of respect for her team leader – before spinning and heading down the corridor. The grin had still there too and Jack decided he was happy with the balance that represented. Returning to Daniel empty handed he sat down again, reaching for his now cold coffee.

"No cake?" Daniel queried.

"Nah, changed my mind," Jack shrugged, ignoring the way Daniel's eyes narrowed.

"So, can we talk about the regulations then?"

"No," Jack said firmly. Grimacing at his coffee he got up again, Daniel quickly following as he dropped off their used dishes and headed out into the corridor. Maybe he'd go to his office – find that memo and any others he might have overlooked.

"What about tonight? I could bring –"

"No Daniel," Jack repeated impatiently. "It'll take a much stranger day than this one before you get me debating with you about the non frat regs."

"Later then," Daniel quipped, earning a reluctant chuckle from the Colonel.

"Don't you have archaeology things to do?" he asked pointedly.

"As a matter of fact I do," Daniel shifted direction, stopping when Jack didn't follow and motioning him onwards. "I found a reference to something you'll find really interesting …,"

"Really?" Jack returned disbelievingly even though he let himself be drawn along.

As Daniel droned on about the significance of something Jack didn't understand because he'd already stopped listening, the Colonel realised he felt something he hadn't felt for a long time – positive about the future. It was a small kernel amidst the black mess of grief his life had been for over a year, but it was a start.


	4. The Caveman Approach

**Authors Note:**

For this episode I went with a prompt from the Team Flyboy thread on Gateworld - 'Deductive Reasoning' (thanks bailey1ak!). Didn't reference the prompt directly but hopefully there's enough there to consider it an answer. There have been so many tags and rewrites for this episode it was hard to come up with something different - so this one really just addresses my wonderings on what Jack might have thought after the event, given with his last comment about the tank top, he clearly did remember what happened. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: The Caveman Approach<strong>

_(Spoilers for: S01E04 - The Broca Divide)_

"Was today a strange enough day?"

Jack O'Neill looked up from his coffee to see Daniel Jackson standing beside his table, a too innocent expression on his face. "Sorry?" he queried, his tone less than inviting. He'd had a difficult day – he was tired and sore and his face still felt like it wasn't quite his own. Turning into a Neanderthal explained some of it, the rest probably the reason Daniel was there to torment him. He didn't want to talk about that or the fact that he'd gone at Daniel with every intention of killing him. Thankfully it didn't look like Daniel was going to hold that part over him ... not when the cause was so much more interesting.

"After the whole 'dress' incident you said it would have to be a stranger day than that before you'd discuss the non frat regs with me," Daniel reminded him. "Surely today qualifies."

"It certainly was a strange one," Jack agreed dismissively.

Daniel, contrary as always, took that as all the invitation needed, moving to sit down across from his friend. The Mess was deserted, the base already in late shift mode. Jack should have gone home hours ago, only the need to make sure all their personnel, including Daniel had been checked and cleared of the virus the reason he's stuck around.

"You don't think it's telling that Sam chose you?" Daniel, in his usual 'Daniel' way just jumped in without any kind of preamble.

"No Daniel, I don't," Jack shot back impatiently. "She wasn't herself just like most of the base. The best thing we can do for everyone affected is to forget about it."

"Janet said that primitive females -,"

"I _know_ what Doc Fraiser said," Jack interrupted. "It was proximity Daniel – I was just the nearest male when the virus started to affect Carter."

"I don't think so," Daniel's tone went all 'Sherlock Holmes' and Jack could almost see his brain turning over the clues of a mystery only he could see. "Think about it – she wasn't in the locker room when you got there, was she?"

Jack gave Daniel his leave it alone look but as usual the archaeologist was oblivious.

"Right," Daniel continued, "and she was already out of uniform when she got there."

Jack felt the sudden urge to smirk – 'out of uniform' was such a bland way to describe the Captain's attire when she'd accosted him in the locker rooms. That tank top; the way it revealed her shoulders and midriff deserved a sexier title than that – not that Jack would ever admit that to Daniel.

"So?" he queried blandly.

"So she went looking for you – specifically _you_ Jack," Daniel returned. "She would have passed half the base on her way to the locker rooms and she didn't attack any of them. Don't you think that means something?"

"You were quoting the Doc before," Jack waved a hand vaguely. "Carter wanted the guy in charge. Around here that's either General Hammond or me. Now personally I think George is a very handsome man," his eyes sparkled with sudden humour, "but primitive Carter went for the younger option. Simple as that."

"That conclusion is flawed on so many levels," Daniel shot back insistently. "We have how many women on base? You would have been overrun before you could get Carter to the infirmary if it was that simple. Besides, it doesn't explain why your primitive self chose Sam as well."

"She _infected_ me," Jack held up a hand with an abrupt "Uh!" when his friend went to say more. "What's your point Daniel, because I'm sure you have one!"

"You like her and she likes you," Daniel's expression was so earnest that Jack felt a twinge of regret he couldn't make the transition to a military way of life easier for the younger man. Daniel might have been a part of the Stargate program for more than a year but he'd spent only a few weeks of that actively involved with the military aspects – the way he's been brought in hadn't allowed time for orientation either.

"And it counts for nothing," Jack said quietly, "not that I'm agreeing with you. I'm Carter's commanding officer and she's my second in command – that's all it can ever be."

"What about friendship?"

"The Captain and I can be friendly – up to the point beyond which there could be any suggestion of favouritism or behaviour that would call the service into disrepute." Jack's tone was matter-of-fact; he believed in the non frat regs and had never had even a blip on the road to following them – until Samantha Carter.

"So you can't even be friends?" Daniel scoffed. "That's crazy!"

"It's not," Jack shifted forward a little, dropping his relaxed pose. "She'll get promoted Daniel, probably well before most of her cohort. Do you want people thinking it's for any other reason than because of her skills and her dedication?"

"No, of course not," Daniel frowned, clearly considering something that hadn't occurred to him before. "I just don't think it's practical in reality," he finally offered after a few moments of silence.

"How so?"

"We're out there alone, relying on each other, finding out things no one else could know," Daniel explained. "And sometimes things go wrong, like they did today, and we have to rescue each other, any way we can. The air force might be able to regulate you admitting to or acting on feelings you have for your team mates but they can't regulate you having them. And if you can't care about the people you work with, what's the point?"

"Military service isn't about 'you' Daniel. It's about giving your life to something bigger than any one person. If that means you sacrifice something you want then so be it."

"I don't think I can do that Jack," Daniel's eyes glinted. "I want to find Sha're – it's the only reason I'm here. I won't sacrifice her, not for anything."

"I know that," Jack offered a reassuring half smile. "You're a civilian Daniel – the regs don't apply to you the way they do to Captain Carter and I."

Daniel nodded but his expression was still troubled.

"We'll find your wife. Her _and_ Skaara," Jack promised, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

* * *

><p>The Colonel had reason to think on that conversation later, once he finally made it home and was sitting alone on the sofa, cold beer in hand.<p>

Daniel's reason for bringing up the virus driven events of the day was obvious – not so much about Jack and whatever feelings he was 'allowed' to have for his second in command, but about Daniel himself, and what the SGC might expect of him. About Sha're and how willing they all were to do what was necessary to find her and bring her back to Daniel.

Jack could understand that – he wasn't so far from being a married man himself that he didn't remember the need to protect, to do everything necessary to keep his family safe. He'd failed, so badly that he'd never forgive himself. Failed his son, and failed Sara too – for what had happened to Charlie and for what he couldn't be for his wife in the aftermath.

He felt the same need to protect his team now – they were still new, still forming their dynamic, but Jack O'Neill had already taken full responsibility for each of them. Maybe that was why he'd been able to resist Carter's very insistent advance, even though he'd already been feeling the early effects of the virus.

In the privacy of his own home he could be honest. He'd wanted Carter … wanted to take what she'd been offering, what she'd been _demanding_ of him. He'd felt the burning need to claim her – to drag her off somewhere and make her only his. Cover her in his scent in the most basic way. He wished what he'd said in response to Sam's weak attempt to apologise was true – he wished he didn't remember anything. Instead it was all too easy to close his eyes and replay the entire scene in his head in full technicolour, with sounds, smells, sensations. He didn't even want to think about how much Sam remembered - they had an unspoken agreement not to talk about it and this was one incident Jack had no intention of reminding anyone of. Joking about it broke the tension with Captain Carter but Jack was sure it'd be a while before he stopped feeling a pulse of tension whenever she walked into a room.

Maybe the cave men had it right – pick the woman you wanted, knock her over the head with your club and drag her off to your cave. No discussion, no complications. And no regulations to get in the way. With a smirk Jack shifted off the couch and headed for the kitchen. Knowing Carter as he was coming to, she'd have found a way to outsmart all the cavemen so that the women did all the 'clubbing and dragging', leaving those cavemen convinced it was all their own idea.

Grabbing another beer he returned to his sofa. Right now the SGC needed him. His team needed him. He'd already lost more than he'd ever be asked to sacrifice in the name of service to his country. If he could keep that bottled inside every hour of every day then surely he could handle the memory of what Carter's body had felt like when she'd been pressing him down onto the floor with her lips devouring his, right?

"Yeahsureyoubetcha," he muttered to himself with a touch of sadness.


	5. The Sixth Commandment

**Chapter 5: The Sixth Commandment**

_(Spoilers for: S01E05 - The First Commandment)_

Back at the SGC, standing in front of his open locker, Jack O'Neill finally let the mask he'd been wearing the entire day drop. What Hanson had done was a particular kind of horror he struggled to comprehend. The captain had assumed the role of God, worked an entire race of people to the bone to built him a temple, some of them to death. He'd staked the dissenters out in the brutal sunshine for days, leaving them to die a slow and horrible death from massive burns and sunstroke.

He'd murdered one of his own team in cold blood.

That was something Jack would never condone, nor gloss over with a convenient label of 'insane'. There was _nothing_ that could excuse Jonas Hanson's actions, nor the actions of the men who'd decided to follow their team leader. The chain of command was one thing but no serviceman was expected to follow orders clearly as unethical and just plain crazy as Hanson's had been.

With a tired sigh, Jack ran a hand through his hair, sending dirt particles floating slowly to the floor. He'd gotten rid of the native garb he'd borrowed in an effort to rescue Lieutenant Connor but still sported the dirt and the imagined stench of that place.

Grabbing his kit he made his way to the shower, keener than usual to wash away the remains of a mission that felt like a failure. They'd neutralised Hanson, freed those people from his rule sure, even raised the shield so they could leave the caves without fearing the sun. But they couldn't do the impossible – make it as though the SGC had never been there. Jack had never been into Star Trek but he thought Carter's comments a while back about the Prime Directive never rang so true as they had for the cave dwellers.

How had Carter let herself get caught up with a guy like Hanson in the first place? There must have been signs because she'd said it herself – she wasn't surprised to learn of his behaviour, his need to control. It wasn't Jack's place to question her past and yet the knowledge that at some point in the past she'd intended to marry that guy had him wanting to do just that.

Shaking his head in an effort to clear disturbing thoughts away, the Colonel returned his attention to the task at hand, quickly finishing his ablutions and heading for the Mess. When he saw Captain Carter, sitting alone, he took it as sign.

Coffee in hand he strolled over. "Captain," he raised a brow in enquiry.

"Sir," Carter straightened, giving him a small smile as she gestured to the empty seat across from her.

They were both quiet as he sat down, stirred his coffee repeatedly and then got down to the business of drinking it. The silence was at the point of becoming awkward before Jack spoke.

"The lunatic fringe?"

Sam grimaced. "You heard that Sir?"

"Kind of hard not to Carter," Jack returned. "I _was_ right behind you."

"Sorry Sir," Sam hesitated a moment and then let out a tired sigh. "Jonas planned on SG-1 being sent to investigate. He knew I'd confront him, try to talk him around. He called me a healer of the emotionally wounded – said he was my one failure."

"And what do you think?"

It wasn't the response she'd expected. Sam's eyes shot to his and she frowned, not looking away, thoughts clearly whizzing rapidly through that genius brain of hers.

"I think that would be a convenient excuse Sir," she finally replied.

"How so?"

"I misjudged a man badly enough to agree to marry him," Sam explained. "It would be nice if I could say it was because of my own weaknesses, my own need to fix what's broken in others. But that wasn't it. Jonas was adept at masking his true self Sir – he fooled me and that knowledge really bites."

"He might have fooled you for a time Captain," Jack returned, "but since you didn't marry him you must have seen through him at some point."

"Like I said back on that planet Sir, there were signs," Sam agreed. "He liked to control things and he enjoyed his rank just a little too much. Once I made Captain too the cracks in his mask started to show. I should have ended things then but I'd invested so much time into the relationship and I genuinely thought it was something I could fix in time."

"You're not a quitter Carter," Jack pointed out. "You don't give up when things go wrong – that's going to get you into trouble sometimes because there're always scenarios where giving up is the right course of action."

"I know that Sir but at the time …," she shrugged.

"Hard to see the trees for the forest huh?" Jack quipped.

"Something like that," Sam agreed.

Both fell silent again but Colonel O'Neill could almost hear Carter's brain ticking over. "What?" he demanded.

"Sir?"

"I can hear you stewing over something from here Captain," Jack returned. "Just spit it out already."

"It's just … I didn't mean you Sir," Sam admitted, looking him in the eye with a pained smile before she returned her gaze to the tabletop in front of her.

"Me?" Jack frowned.

"When I told Daniel Jonas was the way he was because of too many years in Black Ops," she explained. "I wasn't including you in that."

"Ah," Jack's brow raised. "So … I'm not lunatic enough for ya Captain?"

Sam's eyes shot to his as the different ways she could interpret his words ran through both their minds. He wasn't crazy enough for her to consider his own history in Black Ops as a negative? Or he wasn't sufficiently 'wounded' for her to be attracted to the prospect of fixing him.

"Without direct knowledge of Black Ops myself, I can't really comment Sir."

Jack's lips quirked in a rueful smile – Sam going for the safe answer didn't surprise him. And he should be relieved since he's spoken before he'd really thought about the implications.

"If theories count though Sir," Sam continued before he could say anything, "I believe that there are people who _want_ to do the kinds of things Black Ops missions require because they have that lunatic edge, people like Jonas. And then there are people like you Sir."

"And what kind of person would that be Captain?" Jack found himself genuinely curious. He hadn't spent a lot of time wondering what Carter thought of him in a professional capacity but now the opportunity to find out was there, it was strangely compelling.

"The kind who does the job because it's _asked_ of them Sir," Sam said earnestly, "because it's important enough to put their own physical and mental well being below serving their country."

There was admiration in her eyes and Jack found himself shifting in his seat, uncomfortable with the attention and the knowledge that if she knew what he'd done, what he was capable of doing, she'd find much less to admire in him. If she knew how his actions led to the death of his son she's see his soul was every bit as black as Hanson's, for reasons that were in many respects much worse. Hanson had abused the first commandment, making himself a God when the bible he carried around implied he had Faith; he'd broken the 'do not murder' commandment too. Depending on how you defined murder that one was a challenge for anyone with years of military service during times of conflict. Jack didn't believe someone like Carter should be tarred with the same brush as Hanson, nor that she wouldn't be forgiven for anything she'd done for the air force. As for him, well, they really needed a new commandment, something about not being responsible for the death of your own child. That one would always be unforgivable.

"There's a big difference between theory and practice Captain," he told Sam intently, pushing away from the table and standing up. "I'll see you at the debriefing Captain."

It was vague and dismissive and probably added fuel to her curiosity but he wasn't ready to fill his team in on his past, classified or otherwise. Daniel knew some of it of course, the part that was about Charlie, but Jack was sure he wouldn't say anything unless the situation called for it.

The sooner they debriefed General Hammond on the fate of Hanson and SG-9, the happier he'd be – this was one mission he'd be submitting his report early for, just to have it done.

* * *

><p>Sam watched Colonel O'Neill walk away with a puzzled frown. He gave the appearance of being an open and not terribly complex book but she already knew that was mostly smoke and mirrors. But now she realised there was more than just a casual, witty façade hiding an intelligent, thoughtful man. There was darkness there … driven by what? A classified mission gone bad, or something else?<p>

"_You don't do the lunatic fringe anymore_," she reminded herself.

Still, her interest in the Colonel was now a few notches higher up the scale. Maybe in time she'd find out more about his past … for professional reasons of course. Knowing your team mates was important – Jonas proved that. Maybe if the rest of SG-9 had known him better before they'd stumbled across those cave dwellers things would have turned out differently.

Yes, she'd really like to get to know Colonel O'Neill better … if he'd let her.

* * *

><p><strong>Authors Note:<strong>

For this episode I went with a prompt from the Team Flyboy thread on Gateworld - 'Masks', thinking of it more figuratively than literally. Next up is Cold Lazarus, for which I've already written a previous tag a while back - I'll probably add that one into this story and write additional scenes to line it up with the previous chapters.

Also, I changed the name of this fic because the previous one was too big a mouthful and I was never happy with it. _Incremental_ is an adjective meaning increasing gradually by regular degrees or additions - sounds more like what I'm doing! Thanks for reading!


	6. Lazarus Truth

**Authors Note:**

Cold Lazarus is one of only two episodes I've previously written a tag for - it was my first SG-1 fic a while back now! In the interests of incorporating everything into the one fic, I've revisited that tag, made a few amendments and added Sam's perspective at the end - and am reposting it into its rightful place as chapter 6. Hopefully for most of you it will all be completely new! Thanks for reading.

**Chapter 6: **Lazarus Truth****

_(Spoilers for: S01E06 - Cold Lazarus)_

"_He cried with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come forth!" And he that was dead came forth." _

_John 11: 41-44_

"Keep the lights on," O'Neill said softly, looking back at his team standing at the bottom of the ramp. "I'll be back."

Holding out his hand, Jack felt the small hand of his son placed within his. Grasping it tightly, he looked at the open wormhole ... pausing for a moment, the two then walked forward slowly and disappeared from view.

The yellow sandy brightness of P3X-562 stabbed Jack's eyes but for once he hesitated to put his sunglasses on. He wanted to see Charlie clearly for what little time remained. Sure, he _knew_ it wasn't really Charlie ... knew that _his_ boy could never be returned to him. It didn't make it any easier ... any more poignant to be faced with the living, breathing image of his son.

There was both joy and sadness in seeing Charlie again ... something that Jack couldn't resist living for the moments he'd been given.

They walked from the Stargate in silence ... Jack holding Charlie's hand the entire journey. At the top of the dune leading down to the crystal gravesite, they stopped.

"It's time," Charlie said sadly, turning to look up at his father.

"I know," Jack replied softly.

"I am sorry I could not ... fix you," Charlie's brown eyes glistened with tears. "The hurt you carry inside will remain when I return to my true form."

"I'm not," Jack dropped to his knees in front of the boy, putting a hand to each of his shoulders. "There are some things that can't be fixed ... that shouldn't be fixed. You ... _Charlie_ was important. He shouldn't be ... gone. I _need_ that feeling ... that injury you sensed. It's a part of me now just as he was."

"You blame yourself," Charlie sniffed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Yes," Jack said simply. Nothing more needed to be said.

"Make room for Charlie to be alive in your heart and he will never be gone," the boy spoke. "It is wrong to hold only his death inside."

"I'll try," Jack promised, swallowing hard at the sadness and grief welling within him.

"Sara O'Neill ... you will speak to her?" Charlie asked hopefully. "My appearance ... hurt her."

"I know," Jack agreed. "I'll talk to her."

"Thank you," Charlie smiled. "Thank you for returning me to the Stargate."

"Thank you for showing me Charlie again," Jack replied.

Charlie wrapped his small arms around the Colonel's shoulders, resting his weight against his father. Jack didn't resist, folding his arms around the boy and holding him tight, dropping his chin down to rest on the top of Charlie's head.

A few moments later Jack broke away, getting to his feet.

"Bye ... Dad," Charlie replied, grinning exactly as Jack remembered. Jack didn't understand how it was possible for this entity to take on more than just the appearance of his son but in every way but reality it _was_ Charlie.

"Goodbye Charlie," Jack said, his throat tight with suppressed emotion.

"You will be well," Charlie said confidently, sounding suddenly wise beyond the years of his outward appearance. Turning, he walked down the dune towards the crystals, glancing over his shoulder once. There was a flash of intense blue light and then he was gone.

"Goodbye Charlie," Jack whispered again.

Pulling his sunglasses over his eyes Jack walked back to the Stargate, dialled Earth and entered his code. His team was standing at the bottom of the ramp as though they hadn't moved while he'd been away.

"Jack?" Daniel's expression was concerned as he watched O'Neill approach.

"Not now Daniel," Jack replied dismissively, walking past them and continuing out of the Gateroom straight to the locker room. Focusing on doing what he needed to do to get out of the mountain, Jack showered and changed into civilian clothes.

"The loss of a child is a great burden," Teal'c spoke from the doorway. "Not to speak of your son does neither of you a service."

"I know," Jack replied, keeping his eyes on the inside of his locker. The Van Dyck cigar box sat there in prominence ... the summation of his most precious memories stuffed inside one small box. "I know," he said again, closing the door on all of it. "Not today," Jack ground out.

"I will be here when you are ready O'Neill," Teal'c promised.

Nodding wordlessly, Jack walked past the other man. He had a promise to keep.

* * *

><p>Pulling up outside the attractive suburban home, Jack sat in the driver's seat, delaying the moment. Sighing, he turned off the engine and got out, walking slowly up the path and ringing the bell.<p>

Sara opened the door, standing to the side to let him in, neither of them saying anything. Leading him to the living room, Sara sat, regarding Jack silently for a few moments.

"How?" she finally asked, her voice thick with unshed tears. "How Jack? I don't understand! That was ... that boy _was_ Charlie."

"He _looked_ like Charlie," Jack corrected gently. There was no need to remind them both that their Charlie was gone and couldn't return.

"When you came here earlier I thought ... you seemed so different but I thought it was just that you were finally ready to talk," Sara's eyes glistened with tears, her voice tormented. "But it wasn't you ... it was ... whatever that was."

"I'm sorry Sara," Jack moved to sit on the couch beside her, putting his arm around her. That was enough to break her, the sobs rising up from so deep inside that both of them shook with the force of it. Jack said nothing, squeezing her tightly, as though that alone could hold them both together.

Eventually the rush of intense emotion was spent and Sara stopped crying, resting her head against Jack's shoulder until she felt calm enough to speak.

"God Jack," Sara said, raising her head to look at him, her voice raw. "To see Charlie like that ... to feel the hope that he really was alive," her face filled with grief. "It was cruel ... holding his hand ... feeling _him_ ... only to see you walk away like that."

"It wasn't my choice Sara," Jack tried to explain,"but it was my fault ... I can't tell you how ... I'm not sure I understand it myself. But that ... person ... thing ... whatever ... it took everything you saw from me ... somehow ...," trailing off Jack waited for her to make the connection, to understand what he was trying to tell her.

"He said what you never could," Sara concluded.

"I'm guessing so," Jack agreed. "Whatever he said? I should have said it a long time ago, before ..."

"Before it was too late," Sara concluded. "You blamed yourself ... I knew that but ... leaving because you thought it would be easier for me? That was wrong Jack. We could have helped each other."

"I could have helped you," Jack corrected. "But ... I didn't want to be helped. I couldn't ... I can't let you forgive me Sara because I'll never forgive myself." Standing up abruptly, Jack moved to look out the windows, flinching when he felt her hand at his shoulder.

"But maybe now you can remember the good that was Charlie too," she suggested tearfully.

"Maybe," Jack agreed, pulling her into his arms and hugging her close.

This time her tears were gentler ... healing rather than an expression of grief. She wasn't crying for her child but for the man she loved and the certain knowledge that he would never be hers again. It wasn't her fault ... it wasn't anyone's fault. It was just the way it had to be ... for both of them.

"Thanks for coming Jack," she stepped away, swiping a self conscious hand over the damp patches on his shirt. "I have questions about how I could see what I saw today but ... I know you can't tell me the truth."

"I will if it'll help," Jack offered, meaning every word.

"No," Sara thought for a moment before deciding. "I think life will be simpler if I don't know. Just ...," she looked into his eyes imploringly. "Just ... be careful Jack ... would you?"

"I'll try," Jack promised. Putting a hand to her face, Jack brushed the last of the tears away. "You okay?" he asked.

"No," Sara said simply. "But I will be."

Nodding, Jack stroked her face again. Both knew it was time for him to leave. Sara stood in the doorway, silently watching him go, sure that it would be the last time.

It was time for her to move on.

Jack walked to the car, his steps slow and measured. Sunglasses on again, he squinted back towards the house and raising a hand to Sara. Getting in, he gunned the engine before pulling away.

It was time to get back to work.

* * *

><p>Samantha Carter focused on the words in front of her - or at least tried to - but her mind was somewhere else. She should be completing her report on their analysis of the crystal bound energy entities of P3X-562 but instead all she could think about was Colonel O'Neill. What must he have gone through losing his only child, his son? That alone was a grief no one should ever suffer, but to bear responsibility for it as well? How was it possible to live with that, to hide the grief so deep inside Sam had no previous suspicion that such a past sat behind the Colonel's casual, devil may care facade?<p>

How could a part of her be offended Colonel O'Neill hadn't shared even just a small portion of his past with her? It wasn't like they were best friends, confidantes, or even people who saw each other outside of work. Maybe she wanted all that to be true but it wasn't, and wishing for something didn't entitle her to any of the 'perks' of that desired position.

"You look at that screen any closer and your eyes will turn square," Jack O'Neill slouched in her lab doorway, hands shoved into his pockets. "Well, that's what Ma always used to say. I'm sure you could tell me all the scientific reasons it's not possible."

"Sir," Sam straightened, feeling the need to compose her features before she really looked at him.

He looked ... normal ... well, as normal as it got around the SGC.

"At ease Captain," Jack returned, shifting into the room to look more closely at the diagrams on her screen. "Is that one of those crystal things?"

"The underlying crystalline structure of it, yes," Carter agreed, glad for the distraction. "The samples we brought back were essentially the same as any of a number of similar formations you could find here on Earth. Despite their status as living entities, the crystals are still a completely solid arrangement of molecules in an orderly repeating pattern extending in all three spatial dimensions. There wasn't enough time for us to begin to work out how the Unity - the energy beings - were able to shift solid crystal to copy our facial expressions, let alone create more complex, non crystalline forms." That was a very scientific way of saying she wasn't sure how the Unity had been able to recreate a version of Jack O'Neill, nor his son.

"Right," Jack gave her a pained 'too much information' look. "So they need the crystal to survive?"

Sam's eyes widened at the Colonel's succinct summary of her own emerging theory, reminded again that although he gave the appearance of not understanding most of what she or Daniel said, Jack O'Neill was a very smart man. "I think so Sir," she agreed. "At first I thought the energy beings just used the crystals as a means of containing themselves when necessary, but that wouldn't explain why the Goa'uld attack and destruction of the crystal clusters on their planet was so successful. Why not leave when it became obvious the Goa'uld were a threat, take on another form? And why was their energy dissipating the longer they stayed here? The only conclusion is that they _couldn't_ separate from the crystals - that destroying them lessens the Unity in some way."

"The _only_ conclusion," O'Neill repeated irreverently. He rocked back on his heels, nodding his head towards her screen. "Carry on then Captain."

"Yes Sir," Sam nodded, watching him turn, letting him get all the way back to the door before she spoke. "Sir," she couldn't let him go without at least acknowledging the new knowledge she now had about him.

He turned, raising a brow when she hesitated. "Captain?" he prompted.

"Daniel told me what happened to your son, Sir ... before we got to the hospital I mean," Sam rushed out.

"And?" Jack said, non committally.

"And I'm very sorry for your loss," Sam shook her head. She'd lost her mother as a teenager - she _knew_ how little condolences from others comforted. So they were sorry - so what? Apologies didn't bring back her Mother, they didn't make her feel better at the time, and she was sure her apologies to Colonel O'Neill would be equally as ineffective. If he wanted sympathy or understanding he'd have told them about Charlie himself. "I know that doesn't mean much Sir but still, I feel like I should say something."

"Not required Captain," Jack dismissed. "It's been over a year now ...,"

"_and it hurts more now than it did then because now you understand just how big a hole losing someone you love leaves_," Sam thought. "I understand Sir." She let herself meet his eyes then, let herself read his expression, what little he gave away. The overriding message was that he didn't want to talk about it - not yet. Should she hope that maybe that would change one day? "I'd really love to hear about Charlie Sir ... when you're ready."

The Colonel nodded and for just a second Sam imagined she'd caught a glimpse of the man beneath the casual mask. Black remorse, constant grief, and the weight of guilt and responsibility that only got heavier every day he carried it circled in the depths of his eyes. He blinked, or she did, and the moment passed.

"Thank you Captain," Jack said - they both knew even then that it would be a long time before they talked about Charlie again ... that there were some things you just couldn't talk about.


End file.
